


Tiny Hands

by messier51



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Fic, Canon-Typical Horror, Fluff, M/M, dadstiel, grace baby, not mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier51/pseuds/messier51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's feeling a lot better now that the Mark of Cain is gone. The side effects were a little unpredictable, but it's hard to say which is stranger: the angel sleeping in his bed, or the baby they brought home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spirit in Heaven

There’s no attendant outside of Heaven’s Gate, and it’s altogether too easy to slip in through the open door. Cas would worry about it but there are more important things. He’s got to get to Dean before it’s too late. Unless it already _is_ too late.

They’d thought it’d be easy--Cas isn’t sure why. The spell was supposed to disrupt angelic hold on a person, stuff like a Cupid’s spell. The components were simple enough: the target’s blood, an angel’s feather, and a 2-to-1 solution of lye and holy oil. If it went wrong, they were expecting the spell to fizzle… but the spell that expunged the Mark of Cain gave out a spiritual shockwave with enough force to push Dean clear out of his body. When Cas and Sam got close enough to check, all that was left was an empty husk: no mark, but no Dean.

Cas almost tried bringing him back immediately, but caution won out. “Sam, what if the Mark has its hooks in his soul, and it’s just gone because he is? Hell of a ‘cure’ that would be.”

“Cas I just want him back so much but I want _Dean_ , not just something that looks like him.”

“I can get him. Sam, I’ll go to heaven, I’ll make sure I find _Dean_ and bring him back, just…” Cas had looked at the empty vessel that was decidedly _not-Dean_ , and feeling angry that it had all gone wrong, again. “Just keep his body safe.”

Now that Cas is here, it’s plain that those shockwaves didn’t just affect Dean. Cas makes a mental note to collect up every loose angel feather still in existence. Even as a single-use spell component, their ability to engender spatial-temporal-portation capabilities to anyone is, well, unsettling. But like calls to like and what seems to be the complete implosion of the Mark of Cain once it reached Heaven has devastated the entire angelic population.

Cas spares a fraction of his mind’s processing power to consider the possibilities; he wonders whether it was the spell or Heaven’s wards against Lucifer that did that.

He follows wisps of angelic grace devoid of any sentience towards a nebulous mass at Heaven’s inertial center. Here again Cas is faced with angelic genocide, and again it’s his fault.

At the center of the galactic vortex of angelic corpses there’s a motion counter to the natural flow that shouldn’t be there. Dean Winchester, clean as a whistle, is bodily trying to pry apart various patterns in the glow. Some of the light slips through his fingers and most of it congeals as soon as he’s pried it off the central bulge. But he’s trying, and that snaps Cas out of inactivity.

By filtering out various harmonies of wordless vibrational screaming caused by the buffeting of angelic essences Cas can hear Dean's admonishments:

"Bunch of asshole freaking piece of sunshine fucker douchebags. COME ON OUT OF THERE AND FIGHT ME. Look, DEAN WINCHESTER IS HERE FUCKING EVERYTHING UP AGAIN. Where’s my GODDAMN PUNISHMENT! Get out here and smite me you motherfuckers.” Dean shoves himself into the angelic stream and appears to suffer burns for few femtoseconds before Heaven fixes the anomaly, and all the while he continues to rant, “Are you JUST _RUNNING AWAY AGAIN_? Giving up? AT THE LEAST GIVE BACK C--”

“What are you doing, Dean?”

Dean is visibly startled, and he lets go of the stream of grace clutched in his hand. It’s pattern melts into a nearby one, combining in glints of iridescent interference before relaxing to fit the nearby eddies in the flow.

“You’re not...how are you--I don’t know what’s wrong with them, Cas, but there’s gotta be a way to save them. If they would stop--” he sticks his hand into the current and flinches almost imperceptibly, “they might be able to remember who they are. How’re you not caught up in the angel hurricane?”

Cas _listens_. “There are many of us who survived. I would guess that Metatron’s spell left any unvesseled angels vulnerable to the blowout of Lucifer’s Grace.” There were still quite a few angels shattered in the blast, out of an already decimated population. _Hannah_ , Cas calls out to the frequency of open communication, and gets the lack of response he feared.

Cas watches the torrent for a little while, as each of the wavelength patterns shifts and coalesces. It’s not just grace, there is angelic _being_ there. Just no conscious angels. Maybe Dean is right though--

“What sort of terrible angel hell are we in now anyway Cas? And how’d you get here?”

“Believe it or not,” and Cas swallows a broken laugh at his own choice of words, “we’re in Heaven. Not the outer parts where human souls are stored, but here we’re at the very center.” Cas cocks an eyebrow. “Time has very little meaning here, you must’ve been alone here for…”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t remember much, must’ve been out of it after whatever you guys pulled off. The Mark is _gone_ now, right?”

“Yes.” Cas pulls out his angel blade, and states with more determination than he feels, “I think we can do this.”

“WOAH there Cas, they’re already broken. I’ve been here long enough, they’re not gonna hurt us, even with provocation.”

Even as Dean backs away, Cas is striding into the whirls, picking out a section of coherency, and slicing it free from the writhing masses. In an application of power that leaves Cas weak at junctions between his high energy frequencies and lows, he brings an angel to life.

“Woah,” Dean breathes, and Cas is inclined to agree. He doesn’t recognize the sequence of pulses in shifting crests and troughs, but there is an unmistakable _hereness_ to the new life. And a voice, reaching out to join the celestial chorus.

“Uh, Dean, we may have company soon,” but the warning is barely out of Cas’ mouth before two angels wearing expressions of grief and horror on their vesseled faces cut across the maelstrom to greet their new sibling. For what might be mere moments, or maybe months of time, Cas and the others, along with newcomers old and new, repeat the process: find a pattern, separate it, heal it. Dean sheepishly shuffles some of the new new angels away from the chaos when they’re not helping anyone, and helps Cas pull some of the stranger light formations from the stream when he can.

When there’s almost nothing of the swirling vortex left, two of the vesseled angels descend on Dean. Cas is focused on gathering up the last disparate wisps of angel, so Dean’s got to deal with these douchebags on his own.

The shorter angel speaks, but doesn’t seem to be able to look Dean directly in the eyes. Dean thinks briefly that Zachariah would be so disappointed in these angels, and it almost makes Dean want to like them.

“We appreciate the assistance you’ve given in cleaning up the mess you made.” They’ve got a point. Not much of a thanks though.

One of the reforged giants of lucent energy filaments comes to hover by Dean, as if to protect him from the hostile angels. Maybe this one imprinted or something, Dean can’t tell. Both of the faces across from Dean turn stormy.

“Your _help_ ,” and the angel sneers this word, “is no longer required. That goes for you too, Castiel. You only seem to inspire the worst in those around you, and you are not welcome here.”

Dean hadn’t realized Cas had drawn near, with arms still full of discordant leftovers that don’t seem to want to integrate as easily as the rest did. The guy seems still distracted with pouring his own life force into the writhing angelic-stuff-mass and even Dean can tell it’s not working quite right. Other than congealing disparate bits, the healing wasn’t working. It doesn’t come to life like the others had. And Cas is starting to flag.

“We can take care of--” the angel spokesperson, who’d moved to take Cas’ bundle angelic residue from him, stops and backs off when Cas hugs it closer to himself, glaring. “We’ll take care of the angels ourselves. Please do not interfere. To borrow the vernacular; _step off_.”

Dean watches the angels gossip as they shepherd newborn angels out into the hallowed halls of Heaven. He’s tired, and he feels like he’d have a headache if he wasn’t just a soul. A few more angels try to help or take Cas’ broken baby from him, with no success. Some of the newborn angels come over and sparkle in Dean’s general direction, but he can’t tell what they’re saying, or even if they’re trying to talk to him. It’s pretty, and Dean’s glad to have helped, even a little bit, to do something good--for once. Even if it means there’ll be more douchebag angels in Heaven--maybe this was all a terrible plan. His only thought had been to save Cas. The rest of them were just a consequence of that.

The last angel to leave offers again to take the leftovers of the angelic maelstrom off Cas’ hands, and Cas barely seems to hear. As she leaves even Dean can hear her mutter, "Whatever, you can keep that one. It's not going to live anyway."

Dean watches Cas in silence for a little while. His face looks deathly pale in the bluish light spilling from his arms. No longer filled with the light of heaven’s shattered holy light, the cavernous space sits in almost-darkness, and it’s starting to feel smaller now that it’s empty.

Other than watching Cas, there’s not much to keep Dean’s mind off of the fact that they’re _in Heaven_. Which means he’s dead. Again.

"Without a vessel."

Cas’ sudden proclamation gives Dean a bit of whiplash.

"What the fuck Cas?"

"This one would survive if she had a vessel.” Dean realizes now that Cas is talking about the thing in his arms, “...I think. Or at least I could do more to help her. She might have a chance. But I'm not going to...to do that to a person. To someone else."

“Sorry Cas, I’m fresh out.” It comes out a little bit harsher than Dean intended. They both wince.

Dean thinks about angels and how little he really knows about them. Dean tries not to think about Hell as a general rule, but his recollections of when Cas arrived and dragged him out are hazy at best. Too washed out. And Cas was so strange at first, so _other_. Now it takes a trip to Heaven to remember that Cas could probably disintegrate a human soul by humming the right tune.

Compared to the administrative office-worker type angels that they’d gotten used to screwing over recently, the angels Dean’d met at first had been just as out there as Cas: Uriel, Zachariah, an _Anna_ , well, Anna hadn’t been living as an angel. Maybe-- “Cas, what about a vessel who was never born? Anna was able to do it, when she fell.”

“Anna wasn’t very happy. With her family. Was she?”

“She was--but Cas, they treated her like some kinda freak when she talked about things she remembered from before. If you don’t know what this kid’ll be like, you can’t just _leave her_ with humans. That’s a recipe for disaster. Growing up in the human world though? From what she said, Anna loved every bit of that.”

Cas squints his eyes and nods a little, before looking up, as if to plead to the Heavens for help. The Heavens that they’re sitting in. “So what would you propose?”

Dean shakes his head. “How should I know. You could--you could find a stillborn child. One who never had a soul? Like Ruby did, with that brain dead chick. Don’t you still need consent or something though?”

“I--” Cas’ eyes return to Dean’s face, “--have no idea how any of it works. I don’t want to entrust this life to anyone else, if I can find a way for it to live. But I don’t know how. I don’t--”

Cas’ voice breaks, and Dean’s heart falls to the floor with it.

“We could do it, y’know. Take care of a kid ourselves! I practically raised Sammy and I helped with Ben and you know about angels. If you find a way to bring that kid to life, we'll be fine!" Halfway through his pep talk Dean realizes that he’s not just trying to cheer Cas up. He means it. A kid would be a lot of work. But he’d do it. It’d be fun even. If he _wasn’t dead_. Small details. “Except that I’m here now, huh. Oh well.”

“You’re not _‘fresh out’_ of a vessel, as you said, Dean. I came here… to find you. To make sure you were, well, _still you_. Your body--your vessel--it’s _clean_. Just like you.” Cas’ eyes focus directly on Dean for the first time since he picked up the proto-angel thing. “I _would not_ give your body away. Not to anyone.” Cas’ voice takes on a sharp, commanding quality, but then softens, “We couldn’t even give you a proper hunter’s funeral. Not yet.”

“Sam--he’s okay, though, right?”

“He misses you. A great deal.” Cas looks down, as if to study his hands through the amorphous angel mass sitting in them. "It's alright. If you want. You can go back," Cas’ proclamation brings searing hope to Dean’s eyes before they’re quenched with some new worry.

"What if I go bad again, Cas? Maybe this is better."

Cas grabs Dean’s shoulder and pushes slightly, holding himself back from bodily shaking Dean.

"I need you. I can't raise a child alone. If this works, this child will be human too, not just an angel." His grip softens before he continues, "It's okay for you to go back. Sam and I will watch over you."

It all sounds too good to be true, but Dean wants to believe it. He wants to go home, he wants to make sure everything is alright. He still wants to live. He wants to see if Cas really can convince this light bulb of a cloud to _live_. As soon as he nods, Cas is giving him instructions to wait at the gate in room 42, and explaining how everything else will be put to rights.

Dean stopped listening after the big about the gate because _everything will be okay_. Or at least, as okay as they can make it.

Cas is waiting with Sam and a tiny human--no, at least part-angel--when Dean takes his first breath of air.


	2. Hell in The Mind

Dean sleeps with Agnes in his bed because she whimpers if he puts her down alone.

Cas knows how to take care of a child, but he lets Dean explain each and every thing. To Dean, taking care of this child has now become the most important task there is, and they’re not allowed to mess it up. Agnes will sit quietly with Cas for as long as Dean is gone, but if he’s nearby, she reaches for him. Cas wonders if she, too, is reacting to a feeling of ( _Dean’s?_ ) _longing_.

When they've settled under the covers, Cas sneaks into Dean’s room and lays down next to them because the _longing_ of Dean and Agnes put together is too much for Cas to ignore.

The first time he does this, Dean squints a little at Cas when he wakes up and then shakes his head and shrugs it off. Cas figures that means it’s okay.

They’re lying in bed a week and a half after returning from heaven, and Dean shakes violently through a horrible nightmare. Cas tries putting a hand on him to calm him down enough to move the baby out of the way of possible harm, but when he does, he’s powerless to fight against the force that pulls him into Dean’s dream.

Cas is startled by the nightmare; it's bloody and horrible.

Dean is at the center, fighting off hundreds of figures, and Cas brawls his way through the fracas to Dean, taking out as many as he can.

And together they manage to fight enough of the things off that it feels like they’ve got the upper hand. The last few figures either move off or fade away; it’s hard to tell in dreams, sometimes.

While they recover, Cas gets a chance to really look at Dean he realizes that Dean's clutching Agnes to himself, protecting her, and talking to himself; "How can I do this, it's too hard, I can't keep her safe from anything much less myself." When Cas tears his eyes away from Dean enough to focus on them, all of the dead figures on the ground, the ones that didn’t disappear, are versions of Dean.

Cas’ entire body shakes violently before he turns back to Dean. Dean, who’s falling apart within his own dreamspace. Cas’s got to be the strong one here but there’s nothing he can say.

"Is this the right time for a hug?" Cas sounds even more unsure than he looks.

Dean’s voice is shaky, and he doesn’t look away from the shining bundle of energy in his arms. Agnes doesn’t have a sense of self yet, but she’s here in Dean’s dream anyway.

"Well if you have to ask, then the answer is probably no, Cas"

The next thing Dean knows Cas has basically engulfed all of them into his arms.

"You don't have to fight off everything alone. I'll protect you. Both of you. ”

 

✧ ✧ ✧ 

 

When Dean wakes up from his nightmare, to say he’s freaked out would be an understatement. The image of Cas in his nightmare, so strong and giving, surrounded by all the evil that Dean has ever been, leaves Dean _mortified_. With barely a second glance (okay he double checks twice, but can you blame him) at Agnes, curled up in Cas’ arms with a bottle of formula, he takes off without a word. If Cas looks up, Dean doesn’t notice.

Dean drives as far as he can stand to go before feeling guilty and turning around. Traveling in the direction of _home_ feels good, feels right. But going home is too much. Fairly early in the afternoon, he ends up at the bar. Hiding in a bottle works almost as well as hiding in his car, which is to say, it doesn’t. Doesn’t stop Dean from crawling up inside it a little further.

Donnie’s better at listening than Dean probably gives him credit for. The guy gets to hear way more from Dean than anyone deserves and in exchange, Donnie manages to charm Dean out of his cell phone. One odd phone call later, (though arguably not the oddest Donnie’s ever made) a Sam Winchester is on his way to save the day.

Sam chats with the bartender a bit, who laments over the "pair of angels" that Dean apparently told him were waiting for him at home, how Dean must be a lucky guy with “a brother like you and a family like that,” and something about hoping they can help him because it sucks to hit rock bottom like that. Sam’s pretty glad they’re here and not really at rock bottom, because they’ve been there before and Hell’s really not a nice place. Perspective, he supposes, is everything.

Sam pays Dean's tab and tips the guy really well, but also makes a mental note not to let Dean come here unsupervised anymore. It’s great and all that Dean opened up to someone, but to be talking that much about hunting stuff...Dean could’ve just talked to Sam about this, it’s not like he’s not there, or willing to listen.

Sam stops short before the Impala.

"Dean if you're gonna puke you should do that before we get in the car."

Dean slurs out, "Not going with you."

"Yeah you are. Cas left me messages all day, he's worried about you and keeps asking to make sure he's doing things right.” Sam pauses and rests both his forearms, one hand full of keys, on top of the car. “I have no clue how to take care of a baby, Dean. I dunno how you guys are doing it, but you are, and you're not giving up now. I won't let you."

Sam gets the engine started (he got the keys along with Dean’s phone from the bartender, who's a little too good at getting things out of Dean) and glances forlornly at his crappy blue truck that’s going to have to stay here for the night.

Dean mumbles a little when the car is on, and Sam pretends he can't hear over the rumble of the engine as Dean whines about not being able to take care of anyone. But Dean’s drunk so he’s talking a little too loudly, and Sam can understand even the most garbled stuff because it’s Dean and they know each other _way too well_.

Dean rambles on about how mortifying it is to want to be protected like Cas did in the dream.

Sam is starting to suspect that bartender is a witch or something and put some sort of truth spell on Dean. He keeps his funny faces directed at the road though.

Sam turns off the car and puts his hand out when Dean reaches for the door handle.

"Wait. My turn to talk. Just sit here and listen for a minute." Sam belatedly adds, "...please.

"Look I'm glad you're back again. Again. You sorta threw yourself into taking care of the baby. And I thought that was a really good sign Dean. You're amazing at that, by the way. I don't think I ever realized ‘til I saw you with Agnes. You did a lot of those things for me didn't you." Dean starts to try to say something but Sam's not done--"Look, you broke your bartenders heart you know? If you want me to go back and let him know that your child and your child's other father 'aren't like that' or whatever, I can do that. I got his number now by the way. If you want it."

Sam takes a deep breath before continuing, "And if you really just want to run away right now, like _dad_ did, that's fine. Just do me a favor and explain that to Cas for me. I don't think I can."

After a moment of silence of Dean staring forward out of drunken determination, Sam finishes; "I never thought you'd do that though. And for whatever it's worth, I think you'll figure it out. No one else can raise that kid but you and Cas, you realize? That's not nothin’."

"Shut up Sammy."

Sam just makes another face and goes inside.

Dean sits out in the car for a little while longer.

When Sam checks his buzzing phone for _yet another_ message from Cas, he finds instead: _you're as handsome as your brother, if you're ever interested in getting coffee?_ \--from the bartender. Sam makes a considering face, but doesn’t respond.


	3. Life on The Earth

For a while, Dean goes back to doing what he does best: pretending everything is fine, and that nothing is changed--no matter what Cas did, or what Sam said. No matter that the center of his focus 20 hours a day is a tiny child…angel...thing.

He should be out of his gourd by now, not being loose in the world, pitting himself against any unfriendly he can find, but it’s not so bad. Remembering what it’s like to live _for_ something instead of _against_ something is hard, but it feels good. Sam’s doing a great job of delegating work to other hunters, and making sure they’ve got the knowledge so they don’t get themselves killed, and sometimes even the tools, to do it well. 

Sam’s _coincidentally_ got “Men of Letters” or “hunter” business every single time Agnes needs a new diaper or a bath or a bottle. Dean smiles at Sam’s constant evasions of baby-duty, but he and Cas are actually managing. They’re doing better than that even: they have a healthy, smiling baby. And she’s beautiful. 

On his way back from the basement with a box full of files labeled “Strange Occurences of the American Deserts” for Sam, Dean hears Agnes’ giggles bubbling out into the hall. He pauses outside the room they’ve set up with baby accoutrements. Cas is running his fingers through the air above Agnes where she’s reaching for them, and he’s rumbling out phrases that Dean doesn’t understand--Enochian he supposes, or maybe something else--to the tune of _Don’t Stop Believin’_. 

Dean almost sets the box down to go in and join them, but he’s covered in dust and who knows what from the basement. Now is not the time. 

Later, one unseasonably warm afternoon has Dean looking through a box of gadgets in his bedroom for some talisman Sam swears up and down he saw there, with no luck. Apparently Sam sent Cas to come help too, and it’s two seconds too late when he realizes that they’re both childless and hears the lock click into place. 

Through the door, Sam announces that he’s “had enough” and is “not letting them out until Dean talks.”

There’s some muffled rattling and then, “I’m babysitting tonight" and some muttering that sounds like “where the fuck do they keep the diaper bag” and louder again, “get your shit together."

When the noises outside the door fade out, Cas lifts up his hand as if to smite the door, saying, “I can fix this.” 

“No, Cas that’s my door don’t...I don’t want it broken." Dean _almost_ keeps the exasperation out of his voice. 

Cas shrugs back into himself, glaring sullenly at the door. Cas really does not like doors. 

Dean looks around the room, grabs his music player and headphones off his shelf. He grumbles “fuck it” and lies out on his bed with the volume high enough that Cas would’ve been able to listen in even without angelic superhearing. Dean figures Sam will come back eventually. _Or else_. 

Cas, on the other hand, sits in the chair in a way that suggests he doesn’t fit into it, and worries about Agnes.

The first time Cas tries to ask a question, Dean doesn’t hear him. But Cas tries again, reaching out and waving a hand around to get Dean to pause his music. 

“Do you think Sam knows to keep her head covered? It’s not cold out, but a baby needs to be kept warm.” 

“It’s fine, Cas,” Dean’s not even done responding before the earphones are back in his ears. 

The second time, Cas asks whether Sam would’ve remembered to heat up a bottle before they left, because Agnes will start getting hungry and she won’t drink the formula unless it’s the right temperature. Dean just rolls his eyes. 

The third time Cas gets Dean’s attention, before he can even say anything, Dean interrupts him; “Sam’s a grown-ass man. He can take care of a baby fine. He’s probably using her to pick up chicks. The single dad routine is awesome.” 

(Sam has no clue why so many of the women (and a few of the men) out running in their spandex keep stopping to say hi. They coo over the baby a bit, but an unsettling amount of their attention gets thrown at him. He’s used to getting looks, and even friendly conversations, but the almost predatory attention that’s being directed at himself and Agnes is _uncomfortable_. Maybe that bartender didn’t just mess with _Dean_. Sam thinks it would be good to look into that a bit more.) 

When Dean finally dozes off, Cas slides into his dream with him. Agnes has a great deal of angelic mojo without any control, and she doesn’t really dream. But, she’s also dependent on her human body, and needs rest, so she spends her nights safely tucked into Dean’s arms and dreams. 

Agnes’ angelic powers seem to magnify everything around her. Cas can almost _hear_ her joy and sorrow on angelic frequencies. If she’s with Dean, they seem to create a feedback loop as she reacts to his own emotional state and rebroadcasts that. Either of the alone is difficult to ignore, but the two of them together are a force to be reckoned with. 

The same seems to hold for Agnes’ dreamwalking abilities. If Cas is nearby, following her into Dean’s dreams is something he has to actively shield himself against if he wants to stay out. Most times, he follows--not on purpose, just to watch. He tries not to interfere with either of them, or their dreams, staying mostly unnoticeable. Cas likes it within Dean’s dreams though, and he can see why Agnes finds comfort there. He always finds himself unwilling to leave the dreams. 

Even without Agnes as a catalyst, Cas finds himself pulled in again this time. There’s no excuse and Dean’s not distracted by a small child, but it saddens Castiel to think it’s a habit he’ll have to break. 

And Dean notices. He can _see_ Cas, and he’s making a strange face. 

Cas interrupts whatever words Dean was chewing on before they have a chance to leave his lips; “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I need to go, this wasn’t appropriate.”

Personal boundaries are important. Cas shouldn’t barge into people’s dreams without permission. 

Cas leaves Dean’s head in such a hurry that it startles Dean out of his torpor. 

Dean wants to ask if Cas has been sneaking into his dreams. He’s pretty sure Agnes has. But maybe it’s Cas that’s been keeping the bulk of his nightmares at bay.

When he opens his mouth, that question is too hard. 

So instead he asks, “Why didn’t you give up on her?” 

There’s no mistaking the _her_. For them, there’s really only one _her_ in the world anymore. 

Dean realizes that that question’s just as hard as the one he didn’t ask, and he shouldn’t be asking any questions at all; “Never mind, it was stupid,” he says and goes to put his headphones back on. 

Cas’ expression turns determined though; he comes over and practically yanks the earphones out of Dean’s hands. 

Cas stares at Dean from five inches in front of his nose for a good minute before saying, “I don’t know. I never even thought of letting her go.”

Dean is quiet, so Cas continues, “If you hadn’t thought to use a vessel, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I just…. didn’t want to lose anything else anymore. You seemed so determined to help the angels out, too. I wanted to make sure that what you did all worked out.”

Cas finally looks away, although he doesn’t really move. “Plus she reminds me of myself. A little bit broken, not a very good angel,” Cas laughs a little self-deprecatingly, “and I guess, I wanted her to be okay."

Suddenly Dean’s entire perspective gets flipped. He’s not sure how they’ll ever survive if Cas needs to be protected, but Cas _does_ need that, and they can’t protect each other _and_ a tiny child. But _what the fuck_ turns into _fuck it_ quickly enough because Dean thinks too, _No wait. maybe we can. We’re pretty amazing._ He’s not real sure what to say to Cas, who’s sitting really fucking close to him still. Right in front of his nose. 

Dean leans forward just a little, puts his arms around Cas, and mumbles, “thanks” into Cas’ neck. Cas doesn’t really know what for but he shifts a bit in Dean’s arms until he can hug back and awkwardly pat Dean’s back. 

Dean huffs, “C’mon man, you can hug better than that. I know it. You’ve been in my dreams.”

Which makes Cas blush (not that Dean can see) but Cas hugs Dean tighter. Dean sighs into it because the firm physical contact feels so nice. It feels _real_. Like holding Agnes. 

After nuzzling Cas a little, he draws away, grabbing Cas by the hand, and pulls him off the bed. 

“C’mon, Sam’s babysitting so let’s do something fun."

Cas squints and deadpans, “But we’re locked in.” All that and Cas is still mad about not getting to blow up the door. Go figure. 

Dean just waggles his eyebrows a little. He likes a good challenge, “Oh yeah?”

Dean rummages around in his top drawer until he finds his backup- _backup_ lockpick set, and gets them out of the room in a few minutes (Dean might be showing off a little bit now). He probably could’ve done it the whole time, but Dean doesn’t examine that thought too closely.

Taped to the wall across from the door is a note: “Your cell phones are on the kitchen counter—“ Dean didn’t even notice his cell phone was gone, “—and if Cas broke down the door you guys are going to fix it by yourselves. We’ll be back later. Don’t get too drunk. -Sam and Agnes”

“Hah. We’ll show Sammy how much he knows.” 

Dean crumples up the note and throws it down the hall. Sam will pick it up later.


	4. A Family at Home

The text Sam gets says: _bring my damn baby back_ , but nothing else, so Sam’s not sure what went down. Hopefully Dean, though. Someone needs to.

He straps the baby back into her seat, bundles her up against the evening breeze, and politely avoids a few soccer mom cougar ladies out for their evening run. They head home as the sun sets.

When they get back, Dean and Cas are out in the field with some fireworks (medium sized; Dean is still showing off for Cas a little) —it’s just gotten dark enough for them. They’ve got a mostly full bottle of Jack and goofy smiles on their faces.

Cas is entirely focused on Dean’s re-telling (wrongly, from the bits Sam can hear as he walks over) of his story about the time Sam threw a flaming marshmallow at a pigeon and almost burned a forest down.

He almost hates to intrude, but Agnes’ diaper need changed and that’s definitely something he’d rather not do.

“Cas, don’t believe a word of what he says. That’s not what happened at all.”

Dean’s face (if that’s even possible) lights up even more at the sight of the kid. Sam is a little jealous because Dean never gets excited about seeing him anymore. It’s a good thing the kid is cute. He completely ignores the slight against his storytelling credibility.

Dean just demands, "Gimme my baby," with outstretched arms.

He even gives Sam a funny look, when he hands her over, “You didn’t do anything weird to her right?"

“What do you think I am?” Sam responds shaking his head like Dean knows nothing. Which he doesn’t. Does. Whichever.

“A shitty babysitter.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Dean is overprotective about the weirdest things.

 

✧ ✧ ✧ 

 

Dean practically drags Cas to bed with him and won’t let Cas even try to protest.

“Nope. You keep the bad dreams away. If Agnes’s gonna hang out in my head at night—that’s what’s happening right?—I can’t do it alone. You and me. We keep the world safe for this tiny child. From humans, from demons, from angels, from destiny…all of that crap. Yeah?”

“Oh,” Cas says, but his eyebrows crowd his eyes.

Dean nods like they’re on the same page now, even though Cas is still trying to catch up.

Dean studies Cas for a minute before saying, “Hold on let’s do this right.”

He rummages through a basket in the bottom of his closet and grabs out some wrinkled but clean-smelling articles of clothing Cas while explaining, “That coat is rough and there are buttons on your shirt. You need to wear softer things when you’re holding my child.”

Dean shoves the outfit at Cas, who just holds the bundle for a moment before setting it down on the bed and starting to undress. Dean clears his throat and his cheeks heat up as Cas begins to unbuckle his belt.

“I’m going…to…uhm…toothbrush,” sputters Dean inarticulately, and he stumbles out the door with Agnes.

He and the baby come back with clean teeth and diapers and a new baby blanket from Agnes’ room. Dean doesn’t do that diaper shit in his own room if he can help it (there is a _line_ and there are certain smells that just don’t belong _in his space_ ).

If Agnes didn’t fuss in the absence of either Cas or Dean, they might’ve left her in the very nice cradle they’d set up in her room at night. Dean honestly doesn’t care enough to try it though. He clings to this tiny being with all of his life. It’s a person who he hasn’t failed yet. And he’s not going to. Plus, they’re pretty lucky to have a baby that’s part angel, and if she dreams with Dean it means she isn’t waking up at all hours of the night. Win-win.

When they come back, Cas is sort of awkwardly sitting on the side of the bed, and looking up at them half hopeful and half confused.

“Hello Dean.” Cas’ voice is tighter than usual, when he asks, “What now?”

Dean just smiles hugely at him because he’s fuckin’ adorable in Dean’s old soft clothes.

“C’mon, it’s not like you haven’t been spending the night with us all this time anyway. Don’t think so hard about it Cas.” Dean feels a little jittery but he blames it all on Cas’ uneasy bearing.

They arrange themselves on the bed and Dean proceeds to make funny faces at Agnes for a little while, even singing (badly) to her. Watching Agnes and Dean’s antics, Cas eventually relaxes.

When they’ve cozied themselves into their preferable positions and the baby’s dozed off in Dean’s arms, Cas tentatively runs his fingers along her head. Dean is having trouble falling asleep because all he can do is watch Cas’ fingers and their gentle grace. He watches Cas’ eyes, similarly gentle but sparkling in the dim room, full of love and affection for Agnes.

Dean reaches out his hand and lightly draws the tips of his fingers across Cas’ temple and cheekbone.

Cas stills under Dean’s fingers, stifling an intake of breath at Dean’s touch. It’s not like the hug, it’s more like how Dean acted when he found Cas in purgatory. But gentler. More like how Dean treats the baby, but also not.

Just when Cas realizes he should probably react to Dean’s touches, Dean finally dozes off, too. Cas follows the baby into Dean’s dreams. 

 

✧ ✧ ✧ 

 

Dean wakes up from probably the best sleep he’s ever had. (The saying “you can sleep when you’re dead”? not true. Dean knows from experience.) After rubbing the grime out of his eyes, Dean sees Cas--Cas, who is just looking at him, like he’s the most amazing thing in the world.

Which is sort of a weird thing to think because it’s not really any different than how Cas looks at him all the time. The realization makes Dean go _oh shit_ and also kinda blush and he can’t really wiggle or run away because there’s a baby sleeping in his arms.

So instead he rambles a little, and he figures he’s not quite awake enough to be thinking right but to hell with it: “Hey this is a really weird question, and you can say no, or just ignore me. But, if I were to kiss you would that be okay?”

Instead of saying anything Cas’ eyes go all crinkly (and maybe a little shiny) and Cas leans over and lightly touches his lips to Dean’s, before leaning back a little, very careful of the baby.

Dean lets his eyes fall shut and groans, “seriously dude?”

Looking back up, Cas’ face returns only a concerned squinty look.

With a shake of his head, he tells Cas, “’S just like hugging. That’s nice and all but,” and Dean scooches around a little and makes sure Agnes is secure in a nest of blankets, “it’s even nicer if you mean it.”

“I did mean—“

Dean cuts Cas off by pushing him into the mattress.

 

_And they live happily ever after, if they’re still living; THE END!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grace-baby fic???? WHat? Anyway, thanks Scorn, for listening to my weird dream and the entire strange story that evolved out of it. (Thanks to Turtle too for betaing.)


End file.
